I am struggling with this awful thought. It keeps coming back to me over and over again. I don’t deserve this nice house. It’s ridiculous I know, I mean it’s not even like we bought it. Without wanting to come over as unnecessarily mushy, it’s all I ever really wanted for my family and me. It has the three bedrooms I thought would give the children some independence and privacy as they grow and the garden they can frolic in and discover the beauty of mother nature and all her squirmy, wriggly creatures. It has the laundry facilities I have longed for ever since becoming a parent, an eating area in the kitchen so I can spend time with my children or husband whilst cooking or cleaning (I might ACTUALLY do these things now) and I can park outside the blooming front yard or in the garage and not lug two kids and shopping across a busy parking lot and up in a lift every time I get home. Another thing I have always craved is a window to look out of at the kitchen sink, not only do I have one here but I have a breathtaking view of a sundrenched wall covered in delicate pink climbing roses.
So whilst I am enjoying an idyllic first week here in the midst of a heat wave, afternoons spent in the backyard having water fights with the little ones, I am plagued with fears about money (it’s not more than we were paying, this is irrational) and even worse this undeserving feeling. I’m hoping I’ll get used to it and soon be feeling like the Queen of Sheba.
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